Desire
by pepsicolagurl
Summary: A secret relationship between two people. Someone can't stand the fact that they're together, and they will do anything to get what they want. Even commit murder. (SpeedleCalleigh)
1. Chapter One

Title - Desire

Author - pepsicolagurl

Rating - R for language, situations, violence and the whole shebang

Disclaimer - This is where you learn that you have no litigation rights. I don't own, so don't sue. I'm just borrowing them. Sure, I may rough them up a bit, but they'll be returned to you when I'm done, just a little worse for wear.

Author's Notes - If you're a super-duper "the characters can do no wrong" sort of fan, DON'T read this one. As for that, I'm bringing back Megan Donner's character, because as much as I couldn't stand her (I think that the Television Without Pity website ruined me), I need her for this. Huh, never thought I'd say that. And the lyrics in the story are from The Tea Party's "The Messenger". Boy, first Blue Rodeo, now Tea Party...I'm showing off my Canadian-ness. And I know that the first chapter almost sounds like it could be a sequel to "Bulletproof", but trust me, it isn't. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

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Desire

Chapter One

_If there's a chance, I would take it  
__This desire I can't kill  
__Take my heart, please don't break it  
__I will crawl to your foothill  
__I'm frightened but I'm coming  
__Please, baby, please lay still  
__Oh no, oh no  
__I'm not coming for the kill_

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He stood in the doorway, watching her, fighting the smile that caused his lips to twitch. She was engrossed in what she was doing, completely wrapped up, as far as he could tell. Painfully blonde hair caught the light as she moved from one eyepiece to the other of the comparitive microscope, fiddling with knobs the entire time. He cleared his throat to announce his presense, listening to her sigh. "Yes, I know you're there, and no, I don't have your results for you." She finally looked up at him, blue eyes tired and red. "Gang war downtown this morning. As much as bullets is my thing, I could do without the amount of casings and strays that they brought me."

His eyes betrayed the stoicism stamped on his face, letting her know that he was sympathetic. He walked further into the room and looked over at the stack of firearms evidence boxes sitting on the table. "How about I make you a deal?" Tim Speedle asked, coming to stand behind her chair as she scribbled something on a legal pad. "Are you interested yet?"

"I'm interested. Go on."

"I'll take these evidence boxes up to be fingerprinted...if you can get me the results by the end of shift."

She shook her head. "Not good enough."

"I'll make dinner, too?"

A smile started to spread on her pretty face, and she tipped her head back, looking at him upside down. "That sounds a lot better. I'll probably be here longer than you, anyway. It'll take me hours just to go through this." She sighed again, and dipped her head back down to the microscope, fiddling with it. His hand dug into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle, putting it beside her. "Eyedrops. You sure know that way to a girl's heart, Tim."

He tugged on the end of her sleep ponytail and then went to stack the boxes in his arms, walking back to the door and pushing it open with his hip. "Thanks, Calleigh, you're the best." He left her, thick soled black shoes whispering through the corridors as he went back up the stairs to the main level and made a quick stop in the identification lab, leaving her boxes with one of the technicians there and taking a printout for himself. He read it as he made his way to the break room, dodging people with an unconscious grace.

Another woman was waiting for him there, this one brunette instead of blonde, but one who knew him just as well. "So, what did Calleigh say?" she asked, before taking another bite of the sandwich she was holding, flipping a page in a file with her pinkie finger.

He shrugged and handed her the printout, going to fix himself a cup of coffee. "She's backlogged, but she'll get it to us by the end of shift. You just have to know how to ask nicely, Megan." He sat down across from her as she handed him the other half to her sandwich. He examined it carefully before taking a bite. White bread, ham and white cheddar, lettuce and tomato. "Fingerprints matched, though, so it's enough to get a warrant," he said.

"First, chew with your mouth closed. Second, don't talk with your mouth full," she teased him, leaning back in her chair. "You're right, it'll do for now, but I'd prefer to have all our ducks in a row before we do anything. Which is why I wanted ballistics now, not at the end of our shift."

Speedle sipped his coffee. "Best I could do. Best she can do, for that matter. We'll run with what we have. Look, it's enough for a warrant, it's enough to bring him in for questioning, and when we get the ballistics report, we can add that to the list of charges. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Megan Donner glared at him, brown eyes flashing. "I give you half my lunch, and this is how you treat me? This, I could do without today. I can do without the sarcasm, the sardonic wit...all of it."

"I can either be sardonic or sarcastic, but not both. Take your pick."

The balled up napkin hit him square on the chest.

----------

There was a heavy, comforting weight resting against him, and he recognized at once the smooth leg that was pressed against his, the head that was laying on his chest. He stifled a yawn and kept his eyes closed, wondering what had woken him up. He felt her body tense against his, as she fought her way through sleep, blinking her eyes slowly before they met his. "Answer the phone," she mumbled, closing her eyes again.

He reached out blindly for the offending noise, picking the handset up off of the base. Thumb pressing the talk button, he brought it up to his ear. "Yeah?" Calleigh's hand lifted and fell back down on his stomach, letting him know that she disliked the way he answered his phone. "Hello?" he finally asked, listening to the silence on the other end. He shut it off and hung it back up, finally letting the yawn escape. "Must have been a wrong number," he told her, but she was already asleep.

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_I dialed the phone._

_He answered. _

_I hung up._

_What were the two of them doing, I wondered, as I readjusted the neck of the nondescript black sweatshirt I was wearing. Were the two of them curled up in bed together, his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. Or were they sleeping at their own places that night. It did happen occasionally, I knew that. I knew that because I had followed one of them before. Every now and then, they go their seperate ways, but not often. Usually, they go to his place, and neither of them leave until the morning. She must leave clothes there, because she never stops at her apartment on the way back. I've stayed outside that tiny beach house that he lives in before, for hours on end, one time I stayed all night._

_Was I the only one that knew about Tim Speedle and Calleigh Duquense? Probably, because no one else at the lab mentioned it. No one ever brought it up. And it wasn't like they were advertising the fact that they had been seeing each other for awhile. I'd never seen them touch each other when anyone else was around, only when they were alone. And I had seen them that evening, just before the end of shift, when he had gone back down to the ballistics lab, to get some results from her. I saw the way that her hand lingered against his when she passed him the paper, and the barely-there smile he had flashed back at her. They had stood there, closer than either of them would stand to anyone else, talking for awhile, before he had glanced around to see if anyone was around. He never saw me, or else he wouldn't have dropped the quick kiss on her lips, and she wouldn't have given him that quick wink before she went back to work and he left._

_Calleigh and Speedle. They were two complete opposites. Him tall, dark, and inevitably rumpled. Her blonde, short, and always well put together. She barely came up to his shoulder when they stood that close. He wasn't short with people, but he tended not to talk much, not to go off on tangents like anyone else. She loved to talk, as if she loved the sound of her own voice. Did they think that it was the perfect give-and-take? He kept quiet while she talked. That couldn't last long._

_No department relationships. That was the edict from the higher-ups, but it never applied to anyone. Regardless, there was always at least four people, sometimes as many as six, that worked together and slept together. The rule was never enforced. But they never let anyone know that they were sleeping with each other on a regular basis. Huh. Strange._

_I checked to make sure that I had everything with me before I got out of the car. It wasn't my car, but it would suffice for now. It was nondescipt, just like the clothing I was wearing, all black. I was careful. I knew what I was doing. I even wore a wig, just in case a stray hair would end up at what was going to be the crime scene. Hell, I worked at crime scenes for most of my career. I knew how to kill soemone._

_Knife in hand. Flash of metal in the dimly lit back alley. I let myself in by the back door and entered the small house. The door was unlocked, it was always unlocked. I knew what I was doing. I had made sure, watched the place, made sure I knew everything that I could. I had planned it to the last minute detail. Of course, you could never account for everything during a murder, but remember, I'm an expert._

_The obese man was passed out on the chesterfield. Disgusting. Stains on his undershirt, a thin line of silver saliva on his face. Drugs and alcohol made the perfect combination for me. This is my first murder. I want it to be an easy one. I never hesitated as I pressed the blade against the man's throat. He needed to shave. He never woke up. I put as much force behind the swipe as I could, drawing it cleanly across his throat, watching the blood start to ooze. Hit the artery. Stepped back from the eruption. His eyes opened in surprise, but that was it. He was gone, that quickly._

_My gloved hands rolled the man onto the floor, listening to the satisfying thud of dead weight against the threadbare carpet. Pulled the rope off from around my waist, where I tucked it in the belt loops of my plain, cheap black jeans. Pulled those lifeless arms around his back and tied his hands together deftly. Almost done now, I thought. I wiped the blood off of my knife along the back of his shirt, watching the smear. I had done well. No blood on me whatsoever. I can wear these clothes next time. _

_Leave the same way I came in, but this time, I lock the door before I close it. They're going to have fun with this one. No sign of forced entry, they're going to think that it's someone that he knows. But the victimology will make them think otherwise. Yeah, it'll be fun. I might even get a chance to work the evidence of the murder that I committed. Funny how things work like that. It's only two and half hours before shift started. I need to get home and change, hide my clothes and knife just in case, shower. The man's daughter, no angel herself, won't show up until around seven, and then she'll find what I left. And she'll scream at the top of her lungs, phone 911, and we'll be called out there. _

_I have plenty of time._

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He was in the shower when the phone rang. She froze for a moment, and then shook her head, continuing to poke and prod at the omlette she was making herself. She would let the answering machine pick this one up. She had answered Speedle's phone just once, not thinking that it could be someone from work calling, and thankfully, it had just been his mother, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Calleigh transferred the omlette onto her plate and turned off the element, picking a knife and fork out of the nearby drawer as his familiar, short message played through the kitchen.

She chewed thoughtfully as she listened to their supervisor's voice, wondering if her cell phone was going to ring next. The water shut off in the bathroom, and she listened as her cell phone did ring, hidden deep within her purse. She fished it out and held a finger up to her lips when Speedle entered the room, his hair still wet. "Calleigh Duquense," she chirped, watching him drink from her coffee cup and started to eat her omlette. She flashed him the finger. "I thought you were still on vacation, Horatio," she said, shaking her head. "Right, I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail. See you then."

"Being called in early?" he asked, ignoring her obscene gesture, and slid the plate across to her, so that she could finish the last half of her breakfast.

"So are you. The message is on your machine. Race you to the lab."

"You're on."


	2. Chapter Two

Title - Desire

Author - pepsicolagurl

Rating - R for language, situations, violence and the whole shebang

Disclaimer - See Chapter One for reasons that I'm non-litigationable (like that's a real word).

Author's Notes - Well, if you can't figure out who it is, I'm not going to tell you. Actually, I don't know myself yet. I'm letting the story take me wherever it takes me. And Svend, the Pool Boy? I own him. You're not getting my fantasies. The only reason there's two chapters in one night is because I was stupid and had a bowl of cereal with milk (I'm lactose intolerant, but it only popped up in the last few months), so I'm in agony, and I figured the best way to deal with it was to put my characters through agony. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

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Desire

Chapter Two

_If there's a chance, I would take it  
__This desire I can't kill  
__Take my heart, please don't break it  
__I will crawl to your foothill  
__I'm frightened but I'm coming  
__Please, baby, please lay still  
__Oh no, oh no  
__I'm not coming for the kill_

----------

Lunch was an interesting time in the lab. It was rare for more than two people to stop work and eat at the same time, but somehow, it had worked out that everyone was in the break room that afternoon, with the detritus of their lunch on every available surface. Coversation had started with the case that they were working on, the obese man that was murdered in his rundown house, slit across the throat, and tied up like a victim. Once they had run out of all avaiable subjects to do with the case, they had all broken off into their own conversations, filling that room with the rare sound of laughter.

Calleigh had turned to talk with Alexx Woods, picking away slowly at the salad in front of her. "So, there I am, laying on this pool chair, right? Skimpy little black bikini, the whole nine yards. And this gorgeous hunk of a man walks into the back yard. Blonde, blue eyed, muscles like you wouldn't believe, deep tan."

"Really?" Alexx asked, her eyebrows raising as she listened to her friend's description.

"His name is Svend. He has the accent and everything. He comes up to me and says, 'I'm Svend, the pool boy. Svend has come to clean your pool.' I swear, word for word." The three women giggled, and the men dropped all pretense of conversation as they listened to what was going to come out of Calleigh's mouth next. "He leaves, and then comes back with all his pool cleaning gear, and starts. I watch him the whole time, watchthose muscles rippling under the sun, watch his hands...that part gets me every time." The three men traded a look, and continued to eat. "When he finishes, he walks over to me, and say, 'Svend is finished. The pool is clean.' And I look up at him, batting the eyelashes and smiling, and tell him, 'No, Svend isn't finished.' He leans down to me...and I wake up. Every time. I never know what Svend does to me, but whatever it is, I'm sure it's good."

Eric Delko shook his head as he balled up the now empty bag of chips and tossed it into the nearby garbage can. "You have to be kidding me, Calleigh. Svend? The things that come out of your mouth sometimes..." He trailed off and chuckled when he felt her gentle kick under the table.

"Don't mock Svend. Svend loves me. He visits me at least once a week. Svend talks in third person."

"Svend sounds like a Swedish meatball," he teased in return, slapping Speedle on the back when he choked on the mouthful of pop. Speedle coughed, waving a hand to ward off his friend, and laughing all at the same time.

Megan rolled her eyes and looked over at the youngest man, leaning her elbow on the table as she turned to look at him. "Are you going to tell me that you don't have fantasies, Eric? You don't wake up in the middle of the night with a smile on your face?"

"Yeah, but mine are garden variety. I don't have elaborate storylines and names for them. Svend," he muttered again, turning to look at Speedle.

He raised his hands quickly. "Hey, I'm not saving you from this one. You heard the woman, don't mock Svend."

Calleigh laughed as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So, why weren't you talking about your guy stuff while we were talking about...what we were talking about." She bit into a piece of carrot. "Whatever happened to football, women, cars?"

It was a painful sigh that came from Eric. "The football season sucks so far, the women aren't talking to me, and my cars in the shop. See, covered everything. Besides, why do you care if we were listening or not? Maybe it gave Speedle a thrill." He accepted the punch on his arm with a wince, rubbing the now sore area, wondering if there would be a bruise there when he woke up the next morning.

The entire time, Horatio Caine had watched his team tease each other and bicker playfully with a patient smile on his face. It was the reason that he had handpicked every one of them. Not just because they were all excellent in each of their chosen fields, but because he wanted a team that would get along, that would actually be a team. The only person he didn't have the authority to choose, Alexx, was a welcome addition. He wouldn't have been able to choose better himself. But at the moment, he got to his feet and looked around at everyone else. "You know what I care about? Closing this case before the end of the week. Once you're finished..." He trailed off and left the room.

"Looks like it's back to work," Speedle muttered, balling up the wrapper from his sandwich and throwing it in the trash can, before following behind his supervisor.

One by one, they cleaned up and left the room.

----------

"Tim?" she called as she walked in the door, looking around the living room and kitchen for him. His voice floated out to her from the small porch, and she walked through the doorway, watching him. "Uh oh, you're grilling. What's wrong?" she asked, walking out to stand next to him, looking down at the plump t-bones that he was currently basting with a barbecue sauce that he made by hand.

"Nothing," he said lowly, shaking his head as he put the small brush back into the bowl, licking sauce from the tip of one finger. He looked at her and groaned. "Really, Calleigh, there's nothing wrong. I just had a...yen...for a steak."

"A yen?" she asked, crossing her arms as she watched him lift the bottle of beer and tip it up. "Now you're pulling out the vocabulary. I know that something's wrong."

His response was to pick up the unopened bottle of beer and turn the cap, listening tot he brisk snap before he handed it to her. She sipped it, wrinkling her nose at the foam. "It was Megan. She was having a bad day, or something. A bad week. We had a little...thing." He shrugged and turned his attention back to the sizzling steaks. "You know me."

"Always in a bad mood whenever you fight with Megan." Calleigh moved away and sat down at the patio table, curling her denim clad legs towards her. "And you'll both be steaming mad until tomorrow morning, because you're going to bring her some coffee, and she'll smile like she's surprised, but she knows that you're going to do it anyway. She'll apologize, you'll shrug and say that it was no big deal, and all will be forgiven until the next fight, when you do it all over again." She smiled at the look of surprise on his face. "Don't forget, I know you. I have sex with you, I should know you."

He shook his head with a chuckle and left the barbecue to sit down across from her. Immediately, she uncurled her legs and kicked off her sandals, laying her feet in his lap. His hand automatically went downto her ankles, caressing them unconsciously. "You've seen me do it, huh?"

She shrugged her shoulders, reaching her arms up to release her hair from its french braid. He watched, entralled, as the blonde ripples fell down past her shoulders. There was something overtly erotic about watching her hair rest on her breasts like that, he told himself. "Of course. I was walking by one day and I saw it happen, that's all. It's not like I go around spying on you." She smiled brightly. "Well, I don't spy on you every day."

"Uh huh." He reached for his beer, both of them silent, the only sounds were that of the barbecue and the ocean. "So, how come you never told me about Svend?"

"Do you need to know everything about me?" she asked, blue eyes wide.

His lips pursed as he drummed his fingers on the table. "So, that's why you woke up last night around midnight." He watched as a flush came to her cheeks. "What, you thought that I wouldn't notice? You were really getting into it."

Her blush intensified, and she ducked her head, hair framing her face and hiding it from his view. "I didn't."

"You did."

----------

_It was hard to hear them from where I was standing, but I could hear the occasional sentence, the occasional laugh. He was laughing. That was rare._

_"Heavy breathing, whimpering..." I heard him say, and I felt my face redden. Not with embarressment, but with anger. Didn't want to hear this. Had to hear this. _

_She protested, he went on. I couldn't see them, but I could just imagine. Imagine them sitting side by side, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her arm, maybe brushing her breast. Disgusting. Both of them, together, absolutely disgusting. Probably inseperable, side by side._

_"Well, you know, we could go live out that fantasy," she proposed. I heard his protest about the steaks and her offer to pay for pizza if they got burnt. They were probably kissing now. Touching. Did he put a hand or both on her face when they kissed? Did she caress whatever part of him she could touch? They must have been barefooted, because I heard their awkward step back into the house, her giggle when they bumped into something. _

_All the windows, all the doors were open. Did they not care, or did they just want the sound and smell of the ocean to drift through the rooms? They probably didn't care about making noise; there were no neighbors to disturb. Just this lonely little house, so easy to get into if no one were home, so easy to get into even if people were at home. _

_Heard her moan. Heard his chuckle._

_I left._

_It wasn't time yet._

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It had been pizza that night, rather than the steaks. She had felt bad at first, when they had discovered that the meat had been completely burnt, but ont he other hand, she reasoned, she felt damned good after sex with him. They were side by side on the couch, both with their feet propped up on the table. She was wearing one of his tee shirts and a pair of panties. He had put on a pair of jeans and nothing else. They just sat there and sedately ate their way through the pizza silently.

"Why don't you ever turn the television on?" she asked suddenly, breaking him out of whatever reverie he had been in. "Every time I'm here, the only time it's on is if we're watching a movie."

"Have you seen what's on television nowadays."

"Not even the Discovery Channel for Shark Week, or History...something?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I've got you to entertain me."

She smiled at that and leaned over to kiss him, licking her lips afterwards. "You taste like pepperoni."

"Thanks," he returned, giving her a funny look as he reached for another piece. "You want any more?"

She shook her head, wiping her fingers with a napkin. "No, thanks. I'm full, I'm tired, I think I'm just going to head to bed."

Speedle caught the look and grinned. "You're on."


End file.
